Page 131 of The Monster I Am
“Final exams,” I confirm. “So, I better go. I don’t want to miss them.”
I’m trying to be as polite as possible, but when he follows my movements, blocking me again as I try to go around, my patience begins to diminish.
Elliott smiles. “Why the rush? We should talk.”
I take a step back, creating distance between us. “Look—we can talk next week if you like. But I really need to go. I can’t be late.”
He mimics me again, stepping closer until I’m forced to walk backwards. “You shouldn’t rush, Bexley. It’s dangerous.”
Dangerous. That sums up how I feel about the situation right now.
“It’s a short drive,” I snap back, losing my cool. “Not an interstate road trip. I’ll be fine.”
Elliott holds up his hands in astopmotion. “Yeah. But even short drives can involve accidents.”
A chill runs through my body. “What did you say?” I ask quietly.
His eyebrows shoot up, mouth forming a little amusedOshape. “Oh, that was meant to be an inside thought,” he chuckles. “Whoops.”
The alarm bells are full-on emergency sirens now, goosebumps rising along my arms as his smirk widens. “It’s clicking now. Isn’t it?”
I shake my head slowly. “Elliott, get out of my way and let me go to my truck.”
He lets out a dramatic little sigh, peeling the collar of his shirt back to reveal the bruise again. “It’s healing nicely,” he mumbles. “The perfect shade of yellow. God—seatbelts are a realbitch.”
“You’re the one who hit Ry,” I blurt out.
Elliott drags one of his slimy thin fingers along the bruise, snickering. “Ahh, damn. You caught me.”
“What the fuck?” I splutter angrily. “Why?”
“Business,” he answers simply. “It’s nothing personal. Though, I do enjoy it.” Elliott pauses, looking fondly at the bruise. “Do you know what this color reminds me of?”
“You’re messed up,” I growl.
He lets go of the shirt, straightening up. “It reminds me ofyou. Shame it’s going to fade. I really want it to stay this color.” Groaning deeply, his eyes roll back as he bites his bottom lip. “It smelled so good, didn’t it?”
I have no idea what he’s talking about, and to be truthfully honest, I don’t want to.
All I know is I need to get out of here—now. But unless this psycho has a change of heart in the next sixty seconds, the only way I’m going to get to my car is by goingthroughhim.
I’m going to have to fight him.
“This is your last chance,” I warn. “Get out of my way, Elliott.”
His grin drops, looking wounded. “Can I see them? Oh, pretty please. I want to see them.”
“See what?” I snarl.
“The scars, silly.”
A shiver rolls through me, pure, unfiltered terror hitting that I haven’t felt since…that night.
Elliott’s gaze drifts down my body, making my stomach churn. His eyes widen excitedly as he spots the pink scars poking out from under my Willowbrook skirt. Slowly, he finds my face again, voice dropping low. “I really wish I could have smelled your flesh burning. Tell me—did youscream for me?”
I don’t answer. I can only watch in disbelief and terror as Elliott reaches into the pocket of his sweatpants, extracting a knife. Sunlight hits the shiny blade as he curls his fist around the handle, taking a step forward.
Okay—plan B. I’m not stupid enough to try to fight a knife. De-escalation hasn’t worked, and fighting is now out of the equation. So, I do the only thing left.
